


Donnant donnant

by owlaholic68



Series: French Space AU [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Space, F/F, Gentle Sex, Historical Dress, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Strip Tease, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14258862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: English translation: Give and TakeLynn blushes, her flush trailing down her chest and across the back of her neck. Julie’s voice, seductive and awe-filled, makes her want to just tear it all off, so Julie can take her right here and now.But she wants to go slow. For Julie.





	Donnant donnant

 

Julie’s been watching her all day. On the bridge while she nibbles on the edge of a quill before catching herself. Eating dinner, a side-eye and brush of her fingertips against Lynn’s wrist. She cuts to the chase after their shifts end, cornering Lynn in the hallway outside their rooms and, with a knowing smile, pulling her into Julie’s room.

“You can always just ask,” Lynn teases against her mouth, melting into Julie’s embrace.

“Sometimes it’s more entertaining to see if _you_ can wait all day,” Julie retorts. She wraps a hand around the back of Lynn’s neck, her other hand on her waist. “Now how does getting all of our clothes off sound?”

“It sounds great.” Lynn pulls back and unclips her communication brooch. “Fast or slow?”

Julie thoughtfully grins and moves to sit on a low chair. “How about slow?”

She hesitates with her hand on the clasps of her overdress. “You want me to put on a show?” She receives a nod in return. Julie leans back in the chair and fans herself.

Lynn starts with her hair. With a slow side of pins, she takes off her hat, throwing it to one side with her arm outstretched, the low light of Julie’s chambers glinting off her skin and turning it into a sleek length like a willow branch, like one of those inky black clouds on that one planet a few weeks ago-

She stops herself from getting distracted. Now that her hat is off, she loosens her hair, letting it puff out, accentuating her slim neck. She runs her hands through it, letting the tight curls stream through her fingers.

Next is her clothing: powder blue overdress first. It’s simple to unfasten it; it’s designed so she can do it in a matter of seconds. But now, with Julie’s eyes tracing down her body, she goes slow. With a slow flourish, she lets it fall off her shoulders, leaving her in a few layers of petticoats, a pannier, her bodice and corset, and white chemise.

The matching bodice comes off first. Lynn unclasps it and lets it fall.

“Oh no, so clumsy,” she half-heartedly complains, and bends to pick it up. She is close enough that the top of her hair brushes Julie’s knees. She has to choke back a giggle at the cliché. But it pays off, judging by the way Julie leans forward with one hand on her knee. Lynn takes off the bulky pannier hanging on either side of her hips, kicking the light pieces into one corner with her foot, lifting her petticoats to do it better, definitely not to show off her legs. Definitely not.

Speaking of petticoats, she gets to work. Blue overskirt first, then plain underskirt. Really, she should have done this part before the pannier, but she doesn’t care one bit about traditional dressing order, not when Julie’s eyes are practically begging her to just tear the whole affair off in one go. Which is great, because Lynn _can_ do that. With a few presses of her fingers in key spots, she can just take the whole bulky outfit off or on. Her clothing is specifically designed for that convenience.

But she’s going slow. For Julie.

“Is this enough, or should I take off more?” She asks, turning her back to Julie and coyly peeking over her shoulder.

“More.” Julie’s voice is choked-sounding. She wastes no time in replying. “You’re so beautiful, Lynn. I want to see every inch of you.”

Lynn blushes, her flush trailing down her chest and across the back of her neck. Julie’s voice, seductive and awe-filled, makes her want to just tear it all off, so Julie can take her right here and now.

But she wants to go slow. For Julie.

Corset next. She’s glad she doesn’t have to deal with laces, like the old style of corset used to have. Instead, she has a specially designed garment. When she slips it off, she takes a deep breath, arching her back and pushing her chest out. Her main petticoat falls to the floor with a whisper of fabric, her sturdy pockets following suit.

Now, she can take off her stockings. She toes her shoes off, then puts her leg up on Julie’s lap, bending forward to undo the garters, rolling her stockings down little by little. Her long white stockings slowly ease off her ankles and fall into Julie’s lap, accompanied by a quiet sigh from Lynn.

She straightens to look at Julie, but the other woman is standing right next to her now. She snakes an arm around Lynn’s waist, hungrily kissing the side of her neck.

“That took forever,” she whispers. “I thought I was going to go mad, Lynn.”

“An ounce of patience, worth more than a pound of intellect.” Lynn sighs as Julie’s mouth brushes her exposed collarbone. Now only in her thin chemise, the air and Julie’s body press against her. “Was it worth it?”

Julie slips a hand under the hem of the garment, her warm palm against Lynn’s thigh, moving ever upward. “Oh, yes.”

They waste no more time falling into bed together. Unlike Lynn’s extravagantly slow method of removing her clothing, Julie takes the fast way. Whatever will let her have the most freedom of movement in the shortest time, suspense be damned.

Julie is generous, Julie is selfless. It’s Julie that lavishes attention on Lynn. Kissing, tugging gently with her lips, doing things with her tongue to make Lynn shiver. It’s Julie that makes sure she’s in a comfortable position, her head propped up on some pillows, her legs spread but not _too_ far apart, not uncomfortable enough to be sore the next morning.

Julie gives and gives until Lynn can’t receive any more, until she’s stuttering out Julie’s name in a high desperate voice. Her fingers are fisted in her chemise, her chest heaving and her toes tingling.

If Julie gives, Lynn takes. With her own orgasm still pounding in her ears, she steals Julie’s calm composure, gobbles up her wide eyes and eats up every curve of her body. Her thumb, rubbing small circles, is already starting to siphon off Julie’s gasps. Lynn dips a finger into Julie and kisses her to take away her breath, feeding off her whimpers before they even leave her mouth.

Lynn takes Julie’s timidity, her coyness, her reluctance to vocalize her most carnal desires. She leans over Julie on the bed, their chests pressed together, one of Julie’s legs hooked over Lynn’s hip, the fingers of her left hand pressing into Julie’s thick thigh like she’s trying to scrape off her soft skin.

“Lynn, _Lynn_ ,” Julie murmurs, her voice faint but growing louder. Her hands scrabble at Lynn’s shoulders, her head thrown back against the bedspread, her delicate neck on display. “Please, Lynn,” she begs, and Lynn takes those words from her lips.

She twists her fingers and takes so much pleasure in how Julie squirms, takes pride in how she’s stolen Julie’s steady voice and replaced it with something broken, something that cries out in pleasure. And Lynn takes that sound too, tucks away the vision of Julie open-mouthed and panting, face flushed and body taut under her.

Julie is soft and beautiful, and Lynn doesn’t deserve such tenderness. She quails under Julie’s kindness and love. But she doesn’t duck compliments, she doesn’t shy away from quiet moments like these, where they’re lying in bed together, Lynn with one hand on Julie’s cheek. She doesn’t flee from the slow sensuality they share, doesn’t try to erase the memory of these nights from her thoughts, doesn’t try to ignore the emotions wrapped up in and around their interactions.

And when it’s all over, she doesn’t leave.

**Author's Note:**

> A small idea that turned into hours of research to confirm what I already knew about early 18th century French clothing. I tweaked a lot of the garments so that they could be taken off and on by oneself and quickly, since these characters would have access to a lot of super-futuristic garment technology. Think Star Trek-levels of tech, but very attached to the 18th century aesthetic. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading!


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